


Voyeur

by Sionnan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sionnan/pseuds/Sionnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Noir pauses a few moments to watch Bro Strider die before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeur

The human process of dying was a much more intricate affair than that of the Dersians or Prospitians. It feels like hours, but it is really only seconds, and Jack savors every one of them. He never knew what nuance lay beneath the pliant skin of these creatures; mostly because he never had the opportunity to kill any of them, but mainly because he never really stole a few moments to watch. It never really struck him as something worthwhile, but something in this encounter gave him pause. Maybe it was because with his newfound powers, it seemed as if the fabric of time had been stretched, and still yet had to resume its normal course. So Jack is taking a moment to take in the air. Smell the witchfire.

It is no secret that he is something of a professional voyeur. He has to be- had to be, anyway- with his job. But of course, that street went several ways, and Jack was as much object as he was viewer. He could be innocently watching one of his agents beat the living crap out of somethig one moment, and the next have his mighty and just ruler sticking her face directly in front of him. He wished she would stop doing that. It gave him nightmares. Which, of course, was a very moot point now.

But that digression took entirely away from this very immediate and perhaps too intimate moment. Jack mainly watched unfolding carnage from behind glass, himself unseen. With the human male sprawled before his feet, this was something entirely different. It sent a dark thrill through his carapace, watching a foe so formidable as this at his feet. Well... his fierce black joy was dampened somewhat by that which duly fascinated him. The human process of death may have been an intriguing, but it also seems to be a prolonged affair. It is taking him eons to die.

The beautiful sword, one that Jack privately appreciated in battle, seemed to have siphoned off a piece of the fallen man's life. It jolts in place with each stutter of the ruined heart that encases it, and the steel glistens with dots of green and red, reflecting blood and flame. The man reaches up, his face a pale mask, fingers brushing the metal, as if trying to make as little contact with it as possible. The air is pregnant with the thick musk of blood. It has a different quality than the Dersians or Prospitians. It is a richer smell, a smell that Jack, if he had a mind to compare it, smelled very much like sorrow. The foe takes in a deeper breath, one that crumples his face with pain, and he lets it out in a choke that carries more of the thick fluid. Good; his lungs are filling with blood.

He won't be long now, Jack posits.

The skin gradually blanches from its hectic flush. Maybe blanches isn't the proper word. It slips from his skin. Drains. A tinge of white steals around the edges of his lips as they twitch, move without producing speech. Even the man's red hair seems to bleed of color. It is an illusion that Jack is in some way rattled, in some part of himself that is hidden from the beings that warp his body and mind. It is as if the very essence of the man is escaping him, leaving only a dull sheen to his eye like windows in an empty house. They flick in a way that Jack would have called sightless, except that he realizes that his gaze is taking in the scattered feathers dusting his body and the surrounding ground. There is something his his eyes that Jack has never quite seen before.

Jack leaves before the man dies. Though he would never admit it to anyone else, he decides that it would take a greater abomination than he to truly revel in the intricacies of a dying human.

[Spritelog]

Davesprite: bro  
Davesprite: bro its okay bro  
Davesprite: just relax man  
Davesprite: no dont fight it, it just hurts more  
Davesprite: just relax  
Davesprite: itll all be over soon  
Davesprite: im here, man  
Davesprite: itll be ok  
Davesprite: itll be ok


End file.
